THE BATTLE OF THE BOUNDARY FENCE.
The little party set off, watched by Vinnie with a good deal of anxiety.
The dog was left in the edge of the corn; and Jack, with a good milky
ear in his pocket, followed Mr. Betterson into the buckwheat-field.
"There's Wad and his dad after prairie chickens," said Zeph.
"Yes," said Dud, "and here comes Rufe after you. He'll give you _Hail
Columby_ one of these days, when I ain't round."
"I'll resk him," muttered Zeph.
"Look here, you young scape-grace!" Rufe called from over the fence,
"I've come to take you at your word. Want to fight me, do ye? I'm ready,
if you're particular about it."
"Come near me, and I'll sink a stun in your head!" said Zeph,
frightened.
"You've got that phrase from the Wiggett boys," said Rufe. "I'd fight
with something besides borrowed slang, if I was you."
Betterson meanwhile brought down a prairie chicken with a grace of
gesture and suddenness of aim which Jack would have greatly admired if
he had not had other business on his mind.
The bird fell in the direction of the boundary fence. Jack ran as if to
pick it up, at the same time giving a low whistle for his dog. He
stooped, and was for a minute hidden by the fence from the Peakslow
boys,--if, indeed, Rufe gave them leisure just then to look in that
direction.
Darting forward to the fence, Jack took down the top rails of a corner,
and made a motion to Lion, who leaped over.
"Catch Snowfoot! catch Snowfoot!" said Jack, quickly placing the ear of
corn in the dog's mouth.
The horse was feeding some six rods off, near Peakslow's pair, when the
dog, singling him out, ran up and began to coquet with him, flourishing
the ear of corn.
The boys were talking so loud, and Jack had let down the rails so
gently, and Lion had sped away so silently, that the movement was not
observed by the enemy until Snowfoot started for the fence. Even then
the excited boys did not see what was going on. But Peakslow did.
If Snowfoot had been in his usual spirits he would have soon been off
the Peakslow premises. But his long pull from Chicago had tamed him; and
though hunger induced him to follow the ear of corn, it was at a pace
which Jack found exasperatingly slow,--especially when he saw Peakslow
running to the pasture, gun in hand, and heard him shout,--
"Let that hoss alone! I'll shoot you, and your dog and hoss too!"
Jack answered by calling, "Co' jock! co' jock! Come, lion! Come,
Snowfoot! Co' jock!"
At the same time Zeph and Dud took the alarm, and ran toward the gap
Jack had made,--they on one side of the fence, while Rufe raced with
them on the other. Meanwhile Betterson, having coolly reloaded his
discharged barrel, walked with his usual quiet, dignified step to the
broken fence.
"Better keep this side," he said with deliberate politeness to Jack.
"You are on my land; you've a right here."
"Oh! but that horse never will come!" said Jack. "Co' jock! co' jock!"
"He is all right; keep cool, keep cool!" said Betterson.
On came Peakslow, the inverted prow of his hooked nose cutting the
air,--both hands grasping the gun, ready for a shot.
Jack did not heed him. Snatching the corn from Lion's mouth, he held it
out to Snowfoot: in a moment Snowfoot was crunching corn and bits, and
the bridle was slipping over his ears.
"Head him off, boys!" shouted Peakslow. Then to Jack, "Stop, or I'll
shoot!"
"If there's any shooting to be done," said Betterson, without for a
moment losing his politeness of tone and manner, "I can shoot as quick
as anybody; and, by the powers above, I will, if you draw trigger on
that boy!"
"Take care of him,--go!" cried Jack, giving Lion the bridle-rein and
Snowfoot a slap. Then confronting Peakslow, "I've got my horse; I'm on
Mr. Betterson's land; what have you to say about it?"
[Illustration: "STOP, OR I'LL SHOOT!"]
"I'll shoot your dog!"
"No, you won't!" And Jack sprang between the infuriated man and Lion
leading off the horse.
Dud and Zeph were by this time on Betterson's side of the fence,
hurrying to head off Snowfoot.
"Keep out of our buckwheat!" cried Rufe. "By George, Zeph, now I've got
you where I want you."
"Help! Dud, Dud--help!" screamed Zeph.
But Dud had something else to do. He sprang to seize Snowfoot's bridle;
when Lion, without loosing his hold of it, turned with such fury upon
the intruder, that he recoiled, and, tripping his heels in the trodden
buckwheat, keeled over backward.
Meanwhile Rufe had Zeph down, and was rubbing the soft black loam of the
tilled field very thoroughly into his features, giving especial
attention to his neck and ears. Zeph was spitting the soil of the
country, and screaming; and Rufe was saying,--
"Lie still! I'll give your face such a scouring as it hasn't had since
you was a baby and fell into the soft-soap barrel!"
Jack backed quietly off, as Peakslow, cocking his gun, pressed upon him
with loud threats and blazing eyes. The angry man was striding through
the gap, when Betterson stepped before him, courteous, stately, with a
polite but dangerous smile.
"Have a care, friend Peakslow!" he said. "If you come upon my premises
with a gun, threatening to shoot folks, I'll riddle you with small shot;
I'll fill you as full of holes as a pepper-box!"